


Twinkle Toes

by hmarie



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Ballet Dancer Harry, Explicit Language, M/M, Strangers to Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-26 07:48:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4996462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hmarie/pseuds/hmarie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall meshes two of his friend groups.</p><p>Or, Harry slowly lets Zayn woo him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twinkle Toes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [harryb17ck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/harryb17ck/gifts).



> For the prompt: they (maybe) never meet but they both fall in love with each other secretly. maybe same time and place but never together, or their friends are friends. so they're almost always around each other because of friends but never really talk. harry somehow finds zayns drawings of him and they kiss or something like that
> 
> I did something a little different with your prompt, but stayed in the same guidelines, hope it's everything you wanted!

Harry sat with his feet kicked out on the log across from him, his entire body stretched out. The heat from the bonfire seeped into his bones. The sleeves of his oversized sweater hung down over his fingers. His eyes crossed when he’d stared at the flames too long, watching how the blue turned to orange. How the flames danced around the wood in the fire.

 

To his left sat his two best friends, Louis and Liam. Snuggled up on a spare log, chatting about some trivial argument they’d had in their history class. Louis very strongly felt the moon landing never happened, Liam always enjoyed arguing with him.

 

“Should have never let you enroll in the conspiracies through history class. Biggest mistake I’ve ever made.” Liam’s voice raised, already over this topic, and the semester had just started. His arm draped around Louis’ shoulders, a look of displeasure and fondness on his face at the same time.

 

Harry had to shake his head. Those two were something else. Something Harry could never have.

 

“C’mon, Payno!” Harry watched as Louis squirmed out of Liam’s grasp. “I’m a history major. What did you expect?” Louis nudged Harry’s shoulder, his attempt to bring Harry into the conversation. “All I’m saying is…there’s an _awful_ lot of fishy coincidences surrounding it.” He shrugged, his eyes crinkled.

 

“Don’t bring me into your domestic dispute. I don’t keep track of conspiracy theories.” Harry grumbled. He honestly didn’t like being brought in when Liam and Louis argued about History topics.

 

Harry danced. That’s what he loved to do and about the only thing he paid any mind. Ask him who played Odette in 2012 when he went to New York to see _Swan Lake_ and he could tell you no problem. Ask him what year the Americans landed on the moon, no fucking idea.

 

“Oh, beg your pardon, sir! How dare I ask the Dance major to weigh in on one of the major conspiracy theories of our time.”

 

Harry was admittedly in a sour mood. His girlfriend of two years, Daisy, ended things for a bullshit reason and Harry wasn’t happy about it. She decided to follow her dream of modeling and leave her and Harry’s dream behind. Harry dreamed of dancing across a New York stage with her some day.

 

That was six months ago, to say Harry was still bitter was an understatement.

 

Louis and Liam forced Harry to attend this bonfire to support their friend Niall. He’d written a song and an Indie label really liked it. They signed him on the spot.

 

And really, who was Harry to turn down free heat and free booze.

 

“Harry’, c’mon. It’s been six months…” Liam trailed, ruffling Harry’s hair. “It’s time to move on.”

 

“ _Liam_.” Louis scolded. Louis of all people knew how devastated Harry was when Daisy left.

 

Harry had barricaded himself in Louis’ spare room for three weeks. Thankfully, the break-up happened during the Christmas holidays. Harry sobbed uncontrollably for three days, he didn’t eat, drink, or shower. Harry didn’t even know why. He admittedly didn’t love Daisy. He loved the dream she brought with her. Without it, he felt empty.

 

Harry clenched his jaw when he noticed Niall through the flames, talking to a large group of insanely attractive people. Harry left out a huff, “Does he _know_ everyone? Christ.” He crossed his arms, his beer squeezed between his thighs. He looked a bit like a grumpy toddler.

 

Niall led the group of insanely attractive people around the fire towards Harry, Liam, and Louis.

 

“Lads!” Niall threw his arms out as he approached them. “Who got Harry out?” He then pointed the hand clutching his beer at Harry. “Anyway, glad you’re all here.” He flopped himself down across Louis and Liam.

 

The group of insanely attractive people stood awkwardly to the side. A tall thin brunette girl, in baggy jeans full of rips, a red flannel shirt under a leather jacket. A tall, older looking guy in tight black jeans, a white T, and his mousy brown hair off his forehead in a quiff. Neither of those compared to the olive skinned god standing next to them, they were nothing. This boy was a bit shorter than Harry. His hair an odd silver blue, heavy dark stubble across his face.

 

The tall, quiffed guy cleared his throat.

 

“Oh!” Niall sat up. “Nick, Alexa, Zayn.” He pointed to each of them individually. “Liam, Louis and this, grumpy ole sod.” Niall gripped and shook Harry’s shoulder. “Is Harry.”

 

Harry squeezed the bottle of beer tighter between his thighs, his eyes solely focused on his kneecaps. He could feel the olive skinned boy called Zayn staring at him. Harry couldn’t look at Zayn and he certainly didn’t want Zayn looking at him. No one had stared at Harry like that for a long time. Harry couldn’t take it right now.

 

“I—I gotta go.” Harry abruptly stood, his bottle clinked against the wood when he sat it down. His long legs quickly getting him away from this Zayn person. “Gotta practice.” He lied.

 

“Oh, don’t mind him.” Harry heard Liam say. “He’s just a bit weird lately.”

 

Harry looked over his shoulder once. Zayn was still watching him, his eyes never straying from Harry’s retreating form.

 

Harry did end up in the studio. Sometimes, the only way he could bring himself out of this weird state of mind was to do simple exercises until his thighs burned. He’d lost count of how many plies he’d done when he heard a gentle knock against the door jam. He shook his curls before he gave a look towards the door.

 

It was Zayn.

 

“Umm…hi?” Harry toweled off the back of his neck.

 

“You forgot this.” Zayn extended Harry’s coat towards him.

 

“Thanks?” Harry questioned as his fingers gripped the tan wool of his coat.

 

Harry stood there, waiting for Zayn to leave. Zayn made him nervous, so nervous his palms were sweating.

 

“How’d—” Harry started but Zayn cut him off. “I’m not a crazy stalker. Niall said you’d be here and my art studio is just around the corner.” Zayn brought his index finger to rub across one of his eyebrows.

 

“Louis could have given it to me…” Harry squeezed the towel with the sweaty palm not holding his coat with a death-grip.

 

Zayn shrugged, “I had to come here anyway. Inspiration hit. M’sure you know how that works.” Then he gave Harry this Earth-shattering smile. It felt like Harry couldn’t breathe with Zayn pointing that thing at him.

 

Harry stood there motionless. He needed Zayn to leave so he could dance this weird encounter out.

 

“So,” Zayn walked further into the studio. “How do you know Niall?” His finger trailed across the mirror as he walked passed Harry.

 

Harry couldn’t believe what was happening; surely Zayn could tell he wasn’t wanted here, that he was making Harry uncomfortable. That he was going to cause Harry to over work his already sore leg muscles. Harry spun on his heel, only to find Zayn staring at him in the mirror. Harry felt his cheeks furiously redden.

 

“Everyone knows Niall.” Harry didn’t know what to do, so he sat down, cross-legged, like a small child. “Met him in a class.” Harry cleared his throat. “Don’t remember which one though.” He leaned back on his hands.

 

“I was his English tutor last semester.” Zayn was still looking at Harry in the mirror. “He wrote some of the _worst_ papers I’ve ever read.” He chuckled.

 

Harry laughed too, “I bet.”

 

“So…” Zayn shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. “Can I watch?” He raised an eyebrow, now making complete contact with Harry.

 

“Watch what?” Harry’s brow furrowed.

 

“You dance. You’re supposedly amazing. Niall says it’s something I have to see.” Zayn turned around, looking at Harry straight on.

 

Harry laced his fingers together in his lap, his eyes trained on his fingers and only his fingers. He felt his blush travel all the way down his neck and settle in his chest.

 

“No.” He shook his head.

 

Zayn walked back to the opened door, “Another time, then.” He smiled at Harry one last time and disappeared through the door.

 

Harry doesn’t think about Zayn again. He does his schoolwork, takes his tests, and practices until his toes bleed. But he doesn’t think about Zayn. Not for at least two months. Not until Niall has a show at some off the beaten-path bar and suddenly Zayn is thrust back into Harry’s world.

 

Louis and Liam were on either side of Harry, all three of them had a pint in one hand and a shot glass in the other. “To Niall!” Louis shouted

 

“To Niall!” Harry and Liam echoed before they slammed back the shot.

 

“See, Lex!” Harry heard a strangely familiar voice. “They cheers-ed without us.” It was Nick.

 

“We can do it again…” Louis’ eyebrows wagged, signaling for the bartender to get them a new, now larger round of tequila.

 

Harry hadn’t even noticed Zayn nudge his way towards the group. He just felt the stare then he was just…there. He had what appeared to be acrylic paint splattered all over his plain black t-shirt.

 

“Can we get one more?” His voice quiet, barely audible over the crowd that Niall had drummed up.

 

Louis nodded his acknowledgment. Apparently, he and Zayn had been hanging out quit a bit. They had a lot in common according to Louis, you wouldn’t be able to tell it by looking at him but Zayn was Louis’ perfect partner in crime.

 

“Zaynie-boy! Glad you could make it.” Louis pulled Zayn closer to the bar, squishing him right against Harry. “Thought you were still riding the struggle bus with that _Emerald Haze_ or whatever you were calling that piece?”

 

“Still struggling.” Zayn shrugged. “Taking a break, hoping for more inspiration.” Zayn’s hip somehow nudged against Harry’s.

 

“Because alcohol’s the best way to get it.” Harry scoffed. Why was Zayn here, looking at him again? Harry hated it.

 

Zayn turned his body directly to Harry. “Did I offend the dancer?” Zayn raised one eyebrow. “Jealous you can’t drink and do your art?” Zayn’s finger rubbed against the side of Harry’s arm.

 

“I can do my art any way I please.” Harry clenched his jaw, grabbed his drink and walked towards the stage, away from Zayn.

 

Harry lost himself in the crowd. He didn’t always need to be with a group of friends, he made friends easy enough. What he needed, was to focus on Niall’s gig and not Zayn’s eyes still on him.

 

Whoever opened for Niall was decent; Harry didn’t catch their name. They were pretty much the opposite of Niall. Which, if all you take on stage with you is an acoustic guitar, it’s not too hard to be the opposite of that. It was a DJ duo, putting their own spin on old dance remixes. Harry bopped his head along to one of the beats. He enjoyed himself.

 

Suddenly, there was a firm body pressed against Harry’s back. It had been so long since he’d had human interaction like this, he didn’t flinch away.

 

“So.” Two tan hands snaked their way around Harry’s waist. A _zap_ tattoo a dead give-away of who the hands belonged to. “You should show me.” Zayn spoke directly in Harry’s ear. Zayn’s breath fanned across Harry’s cheek.

 

“Show you what?” Harry grabbed Zayn’s wrists preparing to push them away from his body.

 

Zayn pressed his body impossibly closer to Harry’s. “How you dance…” Zayn moved Harry’s hips against his own.

 

Harry swallowed, arousal fluttered low in his belly. “No.” Harry shook his head and pulled away from Zayn entirely.

 

Zayn held his hands out to the side, palms toward Harry, letting him go.

 

“I don’t dance for people.” Harry felt the need to explain himself.

 

He used to dance for people. He couldn’t bring himself to let anyone watch him since Daisy took off to Los Angeles. Harry felt like he lost his groove, he didn’t dance the same now that she was gone.

 

“I get that.” Zayn lowered his hands. “I don’t let people watch me paint.” His hand ran through his silver-blue hair.

 

“Thanks…for understanding.” Harry crossed his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels. “It’s just like, a private thing.” He shrugged.

 

“S’okay, Harry. You don’t have to do something you don’t want to do. I won’t make you.”

 

Harry nodded. He liked this Zayn, the Zayn that understood art, the Zayn that wanted to know Harry.

 

“Umm.” Harry cleared his throat and reached into his back pocket, pulling out one of the small pieces of paper he’d kept in all his pants pockets for the past two weeks. “My recital is in a couple weeks.” He shoved the paper out towards Zayn. “You can come…if you’re free. You have to give them this to get in, we have to invite a certain amount of non-dance majors to be in the audience. Maybe you can come with Louis?” Harry rambled on, he’s cheeks an embarrassing shade of red.

 

What was wrong with him? Harry could flirt all day! Something about Zayn made him feel like that insecure fifteen year old that got stood up on his first date. Zayn had clearly taken an interest in Harry. This shouldn’t be so hard for him.

 

Zayn smiled that smile at Harry. The one that made Harry’s lungs hurt and his heart stop beating. “I’ll definitely make time for it.” He opened his wallet and put the ticket in with his cash.

 

 _He’ll lose it._ Harry thought to himself. He put it in with the cash, he’d surely drop it the next time he ordered a drink. Why would Niall’s friend want to come to his recital anyway?

 

As it turns you, Zayn did come to Harry’s recital. Harry had given out his required amount of tickets and the seats in his section were filled. He was a bit surprised, the previous three semesters it had just been Daisy, Louis, Liam, and Niall at his recitals. It was a weird sensation when he looked out to his section after the final note of his dance to see everyone he’d given a ticket to had actually showed up. Niall had introduced him to some great people.

 

His entire section erupted into raucous cheers—mostly lead by Louis. They all leapt out of their seats and shouted things like “Brava” and “Encore.” If Harry were younger, he’d be embarrassed. But he wasn’t and he’d worked incredibly hard on this recital and a few of his grades slipped because of it.

 

Harry took his final bow with a giant grin on his face and his dimples set so far into his cheeks he could actually feel them. It felt amazing. He rushed backstage to change out of his dance belt and tights. Of course he’d forgot to pack himself a pair of boxers, all he had was a pair of black sweats and a rutty old KISS t-shirt in his bag. That would have to do.

 

“There he is!” Louis was the first one he heard, he pushed everyone else out of the way to tackle Harry to the ground. “Our little ballet boy is a god-damned professional!” Louis shouted while pulling Harry into a headlock. There’s not much else he could do, Harry’s hair was still tied up in a bun from his performance.

 

“Louis.” Harry mumbled but still buried his face against Louis’ chest. Harry always had a hard time accepting praise. And Louis was being very loud about it.

 

“Seriously!” Liam joined in on the bear hug. “You were like a rock star up there. Like, on another level. I’ve never seen you dance that well.”

 

Niall joined the pile next. “I don’t know anything about dance, just that you surprise me every time. Fucking fantastic up there tonight!”

 

“If you didn’t ace that recital, your instructor’s blind.” Nick didn’t add to the bodies on top of Harry, but he did give his two-cents on Harry’s performance.

 

Louis, Liam, and Niall started scrambling off Harry so he could stand and they could all head out for a celebratory dinner.

 

“Thanks, everyone. I’m really glad you all came, and that I didn’t fuck it up.” He slung his bag over his shoulder and felt the weight of a body press against his free side. An arm curled around his waist.

 

“You were…absolutely _brilliant_.” Zayn spoke softly against Harry’s cheek. So only Harry could hear him. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Thanks for inviting me.” Zayn’s eyes were wide and full of inspiration. Harry was proud he did that.

 

Harry ducked his chin against his chest and gripped tighter to the bag across his shoulder. “Thanks.” He gave Zayn a soft smile.

 

Zayn didn’t join them for dinner. He gave his apologies but said he had to really buckle down on his final projects in order to have them all finished and in the gallery by the end of the month. He congratulated Harry one final time, waved goodbye to everyone and ran off toward his art studio which still happened to be in the same building around the corner from Harry’s dance studio.

 

Harry and his friends shoved their faces full of greasy cheeseburger, thick French fries, and more beer than they should have drank on a Thursday.

 

Liam and Harry had a quiet conversation about how Harry’s American English professor was allowing him to redo a paper he’d not done his best on because of the recital. It wasn’t awful, but Harry was a great student and pulled better than C’s on term papers. The only other grade Harry had let slip was his History class and that was just because he hadn’t had the time to memorize all the dates he needed for the last exam. He wasn’t worried about that class, he had Louis and Liam to help him with that.

 

English, he wasn’t so sure.

 

“Niall?” Harry shouted across the table, the now much larger friend group also meant it was much louder.

 

Niall had just taken a large bite of his burger. “Yeah?” He yelled back, meat completely visible.

 

“Zayn’s an English tutor, yeah?” Harry tugged on his bottom lip, his nervous habit he saved for when his hair was up in the bun.

 

“Yeah.” Niall finally swallowed his mouthful of food. “He’s in the Learning Center Tuesday’s and Thursday’s from 2:30 to 5:30. He’s the best English tutor up there, he sits out at one of the big round tables.” Niall started grabbing fries from plates around him. “You gotta get there early though. His table fills up fast.” Niall shrugged when Nick smacked his hand away.

 

“Okay, thanks.” Harry nodded.

 

Unfortunately for Harry, it was Thursday night, which meant it would be at least five days before he could get actual help with his paper. He would just start his own revisions and maybe look for different sources over the weekend so he would have less work to do once he actual had an appointment with Zayn on Tuesday.

 

“Well,” Harry stood, his glass raised. The entire tabled joined with raised glasses. “To another successful recital and to all of you for coming and supporting me. Cheers.” Everyone chanted back and chugged the rest of their beers.

 

“S’time to head out.” Louis slurred, he’d had the most to drink, but then again, he always did.

 

Everyone gathered their belongings and agreed. Nick ran the morning radio show on campus. Alexa had a 6:30 sunrise yoga class she’d been pestering Harry to join, which he’s actually considering. Harry was flat out tired from his recital. And Niall had a booty-call to visit, Harry had forgotten her name.

 

Harry had planned his schedule to where he had no classes on Friday that was the day he dedicated solely to practicing. Since his recital fell on a Thursday this semester, he’d be dedicating it to sleeping and starting the revision for his paper. When he finally woke up in late afternoon Friday. He pulled his phone from the charger, checked his email (he had aced his recital. The instructor mentioned she couldn’t wait to see how he improves next semester.) His mom, sister, and a few of his cousins had sent him weird e-cards about his performance.

 

After he checked his email, he checked his text messages. Two from Louis asking if he was alive yet. One from Niall asking if Harry planned on eating anytime today, and one from Liam because Louis thought Harry was ignoring him.

 

Up next came social media. He had over 35 notifications on Facebook. He’d been tagged in multiple photos from his recital last night. Not to mention, the group pictures they’d taken before hand. A few posts to his wall, mainly from Louis, about how awesome he’d been. But then he had one friend request. _Zain Malik_.

 

Harry accepted and sent a little message to say hello.

 

**Zain? I thought it was Zayn…**

 

_Hard to explain. I like the Y but the I is more professional._

 

**You’ve lied to me this whole time! And here I thought you might be the one**

**Xx**. Harry teased.

_I can still be the one…_ Zayn teased back.

 

Harry couldn’t think of a response so he left it alone and closed out of his Facebook app.

 

At 2:15 on Tuesday afternoon, Harry found himself slowly climbing the stairs to the third floor of the Learning Center. Niall had told him to be there early, so that’s what he’d do. Harry got there before Zayn. However, the table Zayn would be using was already set up. There was a big paper sign in the middle of the table “Zain Malik: English” in big, bold letters. There weren’t any other students at the table yet. Harry threw his bag down into a chair, sat his body in the chair next to that one and dug out his notebook and the copy of his paper the professor had marked all to hell.

 

“Harry?” Zayn’s soft voice pulled Harry out of his book, he had been searching for more quotes to use as evidence.

 

“Oh,” Harry gasped, Zayn startled him. “Sorry, hey.” He pulled the cap to his highlighter from his mouth.

 

“What are you doing here?” Zayn plopped his bag down on the table, quickly pulling his laptop out, getting ready for his tutoring session.

 

Harry rolled his eyes and gestured towards all his material on the table. “Obviously, I’m here for the tutoring.” He capped his highlighter.

 

Zayn actually blushed. Harry never thought he’d see Zayn Malik blush. “Oh, okay.” He slid down into his chair. It was much nicer than the ones for the people coming for help. Probably since Zayn would be there for three hours. “What do you need help with? Niall said you’re an ace student.” It was amazing, how Zayn changed in a heartbeat. He’d gone from almost friend to tutor.

 

“Usually, I am. But because of the recital, I didn’t put enough time into my term paper. The professor’s allowing me to re-work it, I’ve never earned a C before. I don’t know how to take it.” Harry blushed.

 

“Can I see the paper?” Zayn reached for the paper marked all over with red ink.

 

“What?” Harry covered the paper with his arm. “No.”

 

“I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong with that one…” Zayn trailed, his hand still open and waiting for the paper.

 

They sat there for a while, Harry staring at Zayn, Zayn staring at Harry. “Fine,” Harry sighed. “Just know, my papers are usually much better than this.” He mumbled and placed the paper in Zayn’s waiting hand.

 

Zayn smiled at Harry before immediately scanning over the paper, both Harry’s words and the professor’s comments.

 

“Yikes, your papers must usually be amazing.” Zayn folds the paper back to the front. “This is almost something I would turn in, definitely doesn’t deserve a C. You could probably appeal it if you really wanted.”

 

“I don’t.” Harry crossed his arms.

 

“Okay, do you have the actual assignment sheet, just so I can see what Dr. Eimers was looking for? Why this merited a C?”

 

“Umm,” Harry pulled a giant blue binder from his bag and flipped open to the second tab. “I should, let me check.” It took him less than 2 seconds to find the assignment sheet. Harry was ridiculously organized when it came to classes. He handed the sheet to Zayn without another word.

 

Zayn scanned the assignment sheet, and then went back over Harry’s original paper. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

 

“I guess I see what you could have done differently, but if you got a C on this, I’d hate to see what the rest of the class scored.” Zayn did the thing where he rubbed his eyebrow with his index finger.

 

“Okay, so can you help me fix it?” Harry asked impatiently.

 

“It looks like you were too broad. Your thesis about the symbolism is great. But the word limit on the paper means you should pick a specific symbol and focus on that. By doing the running symbolism through the entire book, you shot yourself in the foot by making it too vague so it would fit in the word limit. Does that make sense?”

 

Harry pulled out his beat-up copy of _Beloved_ ready to get back to business and get his usual A. “Makes perfect sense.” He nodded.

 

“Okay,” Zayn paused and flipped to the third page of Harry’s original paper. “It looks like you’ve done the most research and put the most thought behind that scar on Seethe’s back. So maybe you could gear your whole paper about that? How the prettiness of something’s outside covers up the true nastiness. I really like how you compared the tree-like scar to the southern plantations like how the beautiful mansions covered up how everything ran and was rooted in the ugly violence that was slavery. Maybe focus your entire paper on that one symbol. Did you have resources for that as well?”

 

“Yeah, a few.” Harry pulled out his highlighted articles from a different tab in his binder. “The assignment only asked for two to three total I ended up with seven I think?” Harry shrugged. He had a lot of ideas, so what?

 

“How many about Seethe’s scar?” Zayn rolled his chair closer to Harry’s.

 

“Three, her scar is a highly theorized topic.” He laid out the three articles.

 

Zayn nodded, obviously pleased with how prepared Harry had been

 

The revised paper Harry had done with Zayn ended up scoring a 98%, which in a Dr. Eimers class, was unheard of. Harry couldn’t believe it when she handed him back his paper, hardly any marks and a large paragraph on the last page about how he should continue working this theory. If he ever wanted to double major, she’d help him turn this into his capstone.

 

Harry didn’t want to double major. But, her words were nice and he intended on showing them to Zayn. He was a major part in the revision of his original paper.

 

What Harry had always done when he felt a heightened emotion of any kind was dance. It helped settle him back down, not that he shouldn’t be excited about his paper. He needed to settle in general, there were other classes he needed to focus on now that the paper was finished. Harry jogged to the Fine Arts building and up to his dance studio. Since he came directly from Dr. Eimers’ office, he entered the building in the back entrance, which meant he would walk by Zayn’s studio.

 

The door was open so Harry knew Zayn would be in there. He ripped his backpack open and grabbed his English binder so he could wave his 98% around until Zayn grabbed it to see why Harry was so excited. Harry still had his hands in his backpack and his head over his shoulder when he walked into Zayn’s studio.

 

“Zayn!” He called. Zipping the bag once he’d had his paper ready to hand Zayn.

 

“Harry!” Zayn rushed over, his hands firmly gripped on Harry’s shoulders, not letting him come any further into his studio. “What are you doing here?”

 

Harry’s eyes focused on Zayn’s face. “I wanted to show you my paper, and you know.” Harry shrugged. “My studio’s down that way, thought I’d kill two birds with one stone.” The paper crinkled between Harry’s fingers. Harry offered Zayn his paper.

 

Zayn still wasn’t letting him in the studio, what had he told Harry once, that he didn’t let anyone watch him paint?

 

“I’m sorry,” Harry backed away. “Were you painting? I can come back.” He started to unzip his bag to put his paper back. Of course Zayn didn’t care about Harry’s grade.

 

“Wha—no.” Zayn grabbed Harry’s wrist. “I wasn’t expecting y—anyone.” He tugged Harry closer. “Please, stay?”

 

“Only because you said ‘please’.”

 

After Harry handed Zayn his paper, he walked past Zayn and dropped his bag by Zayn’s over in the far corner. Harry’s eyes darted all around the room. There was graffiti on the walls, sketches all over the floor, and unfinished canvases on easels.

 

“Are all these yours?” Harry asked and grabbed a handful of sketches.

 

“Everything in here is mine, yes.” Zayn smiled. It seemed he was proud of his work. Harry admired that.

 

Harry thumbed through the sketches. Zayn apparently liked to draw cartoon characters and his friends like super heroes. Liam and Louis had been drawn as Superman and Batman. Niall had been turned into a Green Lantern. Zayn had drawn his dog with a very cartoon like tongue rolled all the way out of his mouth at the sight of a bone. The last sketch Harry had picked up was a sketch of him. From the first night he’d met Zayn. Harry remembered perfectly, and Zayn captured his posture, facial expression, and general likeness amazingly well. Harry was lounged back, his feet propped up on a log, with a grumpy frown on his face.

 

“You drew me.” Harry whispered.

 

Zayn’s fingers wrapped around Harry’s wrist. Harry hadn’t even noticed Zayn move closer.

 

Zayn nodded his head. “I did.” Zayn’s other hand lowered the sketches from Harry’s hand. “Quite a bit, actually.” He smirked and gestured toward the wall directly behind Harry.

 

Harry slowly looked over his shoulder, forever grateful that Zayn still had ahold of his wrist because Harry felt like collapsing. That wall was covered in a massive mixed media mural. In the center of the wall was a figure, clearly Harry from the night of his recital. Harry wasn’t an art genius or anything, but it looked like Zayn had painted the finale of Harry’s recital. Harry remembered the grin on his face as he bowed, arms extended to either side. Zayn made it look like Harry was _right_ _there_. To the left of Harry there was a watercolor effect, orange, blues, reds. All the brightest colors that Harry felt when he danced, the colors that showed his passion. To the right of Harry there was the colors Harry felt when he was with his friends the purples, yellows, and greens, the simplicity of happiness.

 

It was beautiful.

 

“That’s me.” Harry pointed at his bowing portrait.

 

“It is,” Zayn crowded closer into Harry’s space. And for the first time, Harry didn’t try to escape.

 

“Zayn.” Harry turned to fully face the mural Zayn had painted of him. “That’s **_me_**.” Harry sighed and leaned his back against Zayn so he could take it all in.

 

Zayn wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist and tucked his chin against Harry’s shoulder. “I know.” He mumbled against Harry’s ear.

 

“But how did you—How—just. It’s perfect.” Harry couldn’t look away.

 

“I see the real you.” Zayn’s nose rubbed along Harry’s jaw. “The one that can bring a boring room to life with one smile. The one who dances colors across the stage in a theatre full of people. The one that had his dreams crushed but found a way to rebuild them. The one that _plies_ until his thighs burn when he’s nervous.” Zayn pressed his lips to the base of Harry’s jaw. “The one that no matter how hard he tries, can’t hide the real Harry from me.” Zayn mouthed at Harry’s neck. “The one who’s done running from me…”

 

“You know what a plié is?” Harry tilted his head to the side, granting Zayn better access to the skin of his neck.

 

Harry felt Zayn’s smile against his skin. “I do my research very thoroughly.”


End file.
